Warning... this is now more of an adult site. If reading things about what gay men do sexually with one another bothers you - you should not read this blog. This blog is a reflection of my adventures. Some are fun, some not so pretty. I won't name names, or kiss and tell... but I will live to tell. And baby, trust me - I am gonna spill it all over your pretty little party dress. Enjoy.

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2013/03/23

Part 4: Best Made Plans and Bucket Lists

Walking into
that tiny, dark room, I have no idea what to expect, except I know it has to be
better than anything that has taken place in the previous eight hours.Eight hours is a long time to be in nookie
heaven and get no nookie.For me, a
typical day at the Sauna, which usually ends after about six hours, has always
been rife with sexual possibilities.Maybe it is the fact that I am still coming down from my escapades on
Friday night that, though disappointing on some levels, has left me satiated
enough where I feel I can afford to remain a bit picky; which is odd, because,
until recently, I did not have very many (as in any) standards.

The Hunk more
than meets my approval. I like short,
dominate dudes and in many ways he’s a bit out of my out of my league. Inside my head, I pray that I will be worthy
of his attention. Once the door is
closed, he asks, “You like your ass eaten?”

“Fuck, yeah,” I
reply, and get up on all fours on the bed and present my ass. Handing me a bottle of poppers, he gets down
on his knees, spreads my ass cheeks and goes to town, making comments the whole
time about what a great hole I have. The
poppers are good, some brand I’ve never seen and, having taken a hit, I hand them
back to him.

Next thing I
know, The Hunk is up on the bed with me, fingering my hole. I roll over onto my back and he hunkers down
on top of me. We kiss. I admire his arms and handsome face. Nice jaw.
A little scruff. Great head of
hair. I suspect he is in his mid-to-late
thirties and he reminds me, looks-wise, of one of my current favorite
television crushes: Jake M. Johnson, from ‘New Girl’. Except The Hunk’s nose is actually quite
petite and picture perfect. He also has
the same kind of charm and energy that actor exhibits. There’s something a tad manic about The Hunk,
but his masculinity keeps it in check.

Here’s what I
learn, in short order, throughout my upcoming evening in The Hunk’s
company: - The first time he fucked around with a guy was
when he was twenty-seven, and the dude was a priest. Before that, he fucked a lot of woman.

- He is highly sexual, but he is not a slut. In fact, he has not had sex with anyone for
several weeks before coming to the Sauna tonight. And don’t call him a whore, because
apparently that word has negative connotations and he does not want to be
confused for one. - He is not a sex addict. - He doesn’t do drugs (except for poppers), and he
doesn’t drink alcohol. - When at the gym, he does not cruise other dudes
and if they cruise him, he hasn’t notice, because he doesn’t pay attention to
such things. - He’s lived in Duluth his whole life (which
explains a lot of the above).Oh, and most importantly… he’s primarily a
bottom!

I figure out
this last fact once we are face to face on the bed, grinding uglies. His balls are real sensitive, so he is fairly
protective of how they are handled. And
then he tells me about some of the items on his sexual bucket list – a total
surprise to me, because, if you recall, that is what my somewhat aborted gang
bang the previous night in Madison had been all about for me – my bucket list.

Turns out The
Hunk would like to be: fisted, double fucked, and pissed in while someone is
fucking him. Well, I am certain I will
not be able to help him with the latter two requests, but for some reason I
contemplate the idea of fisting him – something I have never done before. But first, my dick is hard as a bat and needs
some attention, which The Hunk is only too happy to supply in the form of his
sweet, charming mouth gliding up and down it.
He likes my dick and I settle into the idea of being a dom top, even
though I had planned on being a total bottom pig slut.

After he slurps
on my monster for a bit, I get up behind him and tease his hole with the head
of my dick and a finger. Taking in his
magnificently sculpted little body – a real man’s body, with a perfect ‘V’
shape chest tapering to a tiny waist, shoulders and arms to die for, great
thighs and calves, and a muscled ass that my tongue longs to abuse, I
contemplate my attack. I decide to
indulge my tongue’s desires first. And I
do. Eating him expertly, like his hole
is a pussy and I’m a big old ‘vadge’ hound.

Seems I have
gotten over whatever reluctance I may have once possessed in relation to eating
hole. If you have ever bothered to read
my Acquired Taste entry regarding rimming (which I plan on updating someday
soon), just let me say, the reluctant, prissy dude that wrote that post no
longer exists; when it comes to eating ass, I am far from squeamish. In fact, I take it as a personal challenge to
be as good at eating ass as I am at deepthroating dick.

Lavishing all
sorts of attention on this dude’s pucker is a total pleasure. Hitting the poppers like a true poppers
whore, he lets me have my way, letting me know full well every time I hit a
sweet spot. My dick is still hard,
despite the performance anxiety that is starting to take root in my brain, and
I am playing with myself the entire time, keeping it up for what I know must be my eventual and ultimate duty.

After sucking
ass until my jaw and tongue are plumb tuckered out, I pull back and again
admire The Hunk’s form. Fingering his
ass, he encourages me to do much more.
Surprising myself, I decide, what the fuck, why not go for it? The Hunk hands me a bottle of lube and I
liberally apply some to his well-eaten hole.
His hole is sweet-looking and unblemished; tight as an eighteen year old
virgin’s. I start slow, with one finger
and work my way up to three. We are in
constant communication with one another throughout, checking in with one
another, so I know just how far to take it.
Folding my hand in a bit, I am able to get the fourth finger in there
and I work that in and out, up to the knuckles.
The Hunk is sucking down the poppers the entire time, telling me how
much he is enjoying all this.

A while ago, I
researched and wrote an Acquire Taste entry about fisting, and that information
serves me well on this night. No, I do
not have a rubber glove on, which I guiltily keep in mind the entire time as I
open him up, as wearing one is a definite safety must. I did just clip my fingernails down to the
quick, so, while I don’t think I am in danger of scraping him with them, I am
still conscious of the damage one false move could possibly do. Reminding myself constantly to be patient, my
hand forms the bird beak suggested by the experts and soon my thumb joins its
brethren inside this dude’s anal canal. My hand is in there up to the knuckles and
it’s here where I get totally stumped.

Some hands are
simply too big to fist first timers. Is
that the case here? I don’t know. I’ve never done this before and never
intended to, ever. The Hunk is assuring
me that everything feels great and is giving me the go ahead. He really wants to cross this off his bucket
list. It’s at this point that I realize
that we have been doing all of this with a minimal amount of lube. The Hunk requests more lube. I reach down to retrieve the bottle from the
bed and… it’s empty!

WTF? Turns out, The Hunk passed me a full bottle
of brand new lube minus the cap. I
assumed it was one of those squeeze bottles - it was not. The entire bottle of lube is now coating the
polyester cover on the bed. So, with no
other lube in sight, you think that two dudes with no previous fisting
experience would call it a night and move onto something else, right? Oh, no.
The Hunk will not have it. We are
plowing forward, lube or no lube.

Back on the bed,
I quickly pick up where we left off. The
resistance that I am feeling suggests that this is an issue about rear pelvic
bone placement and that there is no way I am going to get my hand beyond the
knuckles past this certain point. I enter
bird beak style and then curl my fingers down, over my thumb – this keeps my
hand as narrow as possible, while ensuring that my finger nails can do no
damage.

Something about this reminds me
of pulling a calf out of a cow on the farm.
Not to belabor this, but when a calf is turned the wrong way, sometimes
you have no option but to reach in and help correct the situation. It pays to be very brave in that situation
and feel your way through the process.
Well, those same sensory skills kind of apply here; that along with lots
of patience. And that is exactly how I
proceed.

At this point,
The Hunk says to me “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel. I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel.” There is a touch of panic in his voice and I
consider pulling the plug on this whole thing.
I suggest just that, but he insists he wants to continue. And we do.
Very slowly. But I reach a point
where, I’m not seeing any other way for this to go. That’s when The Hunk starts bearing down and I
start pushing in. I’m not going to lie,
the entire time I am thinking – this all might be huge mistake.

But the
universe, or our guardian angels, or whatever, decide otherwise and suddenly
those bones part and my hand slips in up to the wrist. The stress and pressure felt insurmountable,
but somehow, I make it through. Now,
keep in mind that The Hunk is a little guy.
I do, and know that my wrist is about as far up as I am willing to go. That said, I have fun in there, and The Hunk,
who has sucked down a ton of poppers, is loving it. I play with expanding my fist, pushing in
just slightly, pulling back just slightly, and twisting my fist. This last move has The Hunk telling me
exactly what works for him and what does not.
Then The Hunk decides to try sitting on my fist, a little problematic
given our height differences, but he manages some, though, again, I never allow
him to push beyond my wrist. The idea of
wearing The Hunk like a sock puppet kind of appeals to me and I find my dick
revving up again. And just in time, too.

The Hunk is now
ready to move on to the main course.
Carefully and slowly, I reverse the process and remove my fist from his
hole. No blood, no foul, no injury. We are truly lucky first timers. Stupid, yes, but lucky all the same. The Hunk is grateful. He loved it and can now cross it off his bucket list. I tell him that was my first time, too - and he refuses to believe me. Again... we were just damn lucky nothing bad happened.

Wasting no more time, I pull his
ass to the end of the bed, stand on the floor, and, bending slightly at the
knees, proceed to fuck him royally. I
vary the tempo and intensity, but treat him like the bitch whore I believe he
wants to be. Smacking his ass is
something this dude definitely does not object to, and I find myself really
getting off on the controlling dominant aspects of our play. Also, his muscled bubble but looks fucking
awesome getting spanked repeatedly: real hard.

Now, keep in
mind, that at this point in my life, I am a total bottom. But I manage to pull being a top off for a
full fifteen minutes of prime ramming and jamming before ultimately jamming all
over the insides of this man’s fine ass. He’s appreciative for sure, but
greedy, too. He immediately asks me if
I’m ready to piss in him. This is
something I have had requests for in the past.
It is not something that I, being somewhat pee shy, am capable of doing,
so I beg off with a laugh. He’s
cool. We assess the mess of lube that is
soaking into the top of the polyester on top of the bed, and he informs me I
owe him a bottle of lube. Fine, I tell
him I happen to have an extra tube of lube – medical grade – that he can
have. This morphs into a discussion
regarding the various merits of certain lubes, as we grab out towels and hit
the showers.

I can’t get
over just what a little muscle hunk he is, or get over the darkness of his
tan. It’s a pity that his dick is small,
doesn’t seem to get all that hard, and that he has no interest in being a top,
for I would love for him to dom me. Much
to my surprise, because at this point I assume him to be one of those
‘one-is-never-enough’ dudes, there to get fucked, not make friends, The Hunk
ends up engaging me in actual conversation and becomes my guide to life after
hours at The Duluth Family Sauna.

Turns out I was
wrong about sleeping in the basement.
After 10:00 pm, the dudes in the basement have free run of the facility,
including the rooms on the main floor. It’s
now well after 11:00 pm. That means The
Hunk and I played for an hour and a half.
The Hunk takes me upstairs and
gives me the full tour. He points out
the best room in the place and tells me I should take it. This surprises me, for if it is indeed the
best room in the place, why would he not want it for himself? Because, guess what? The Hunk is a REALLY nice guy. Of course, I don’t know this quite yet. He tells me he will sit in the room until I
go grab my stuff from my locker downstairs.
Sweet, right? I do as he
suggests.

So, here are
the special features of the rooms upstairs at the Duluth Family Sauna:- Large Television with free cable, plenty to
watch.- A VCR/DVD player, if you have something you’d
like to watch.- A CD/Radio/Tape player.- Nice, wood paneled walls (at least my room).- A double bed (at least my room)- A vanity with large rounded mirror (think
1940’s) at the end of the bed for perfect, playtime viewing.- A door with a lock on it (though no key, so it
can only be locked from the inside).- A chair (at least in my room).- And… best of all, YOUR OWN PRIVATE SAUNA with
shower!

You have to
share the bathrooms with the other rooms, kind of like a boarding house. But for $32.00 a night, with a free parking
space? In downtown Duluth? You could do a lot worse (no, really you
could, because there are some whore hotels downtown Duluth filled with meth
heads that make this deal look pretty sweet).

I would also
like to point out that there is free coffee and chocolate chip cookies in the
lobby on this night. And later that
evening/morning, free doughnuts and coffee as well. Also, they sell bags of chips and bottled
water for a mere fifty cents apiece. The
night duty guy, a dark bearded dude with a quick smile, is helpful, friendly,
and rather sweet. So sweet, at one point
I consider seeing if he ever fools around with the guests, but then decide (wisely)
not to go there.

I thank The
Hunk profusely, and he wanders off. It takes
me awhile to get my logistics down – valuables, keys, and sex supplies still
need to be secured in my locker in the basement, but everything else can be
kept in my room. I lay out my clothes
for the next day. At this point, having
lost my load, I believe that my night is over.
I sit on the end of my bed and channel surf for a bit, contemplating my
options. Is this really all I came for
Duluth for? Granted, I had a kick-ass
time with The Hunk, but is there something more to be had here? After all, I have never done an overnight at
the Sauna. So, other than the nice bed, what is the advantage of staying
here?

The Hunk
suddenly pokes his head into my room, he asks how I’m doing. I’m fine. He smiles and takes off. What is he up to? It’s at that moment that I realize that The
Hunk gave me the best room in the place because… The Hunk has no intention of
going to sleep!

This piques my
curiosity. Checking the clock, I see it is only midnight. I decide I simply must return to the
netherworlds of this place and discover exactly what a night at the Sauna might
entail. I do so with the full knowledge
that I have one last trick up my sleeve. Something that I purposely sought out for this
trip. Something that I had hoped I would
not need. Something that can be a total
disappointment or a total game changer.
Something whose success hinges on not just being physically prepared,
but also being psychologically confident.
Yep, I’m talking about a little blue pill, called…